


Next of Kin

by SullustanGin



Series: Corellian Whiskey and Sullustan Gin [11]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Anger, Childhood Memories, Conflict Resolution, Corellian Whiskey, Established Relationship, F/M, Jealousy, Lana is the only responsible adult wearing underwear, Post-Star Wars: The Old Republic - Knights of the Eternal Throne, Post-Star Wars: The Old Republic - Knights of the Fallen Empire, Public Display of Affection, Theron and feels, Unrequited Crush, and it likely matches, sullustan gin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:42:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23788762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SullustanGin/pseuds/SullustanGin
Summary: Unexpected pieces of correspondence disrupt the morning, leading to the Smuggler and the Spy changing the rules of engagement.Or,  "Was anyone else weirded out by that letter from Arcann?"Note: This can be read without reading the rest of the series; there's adequate internal explanation.
Relationships: Theron Shan/Female Smuggler, Theron Shan/Smuggler
Series: Corellian Whiskey and Sullustan Gin [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642009
Kudos: 25





	Next of Kin

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this awhile back after receiving Arcann's letter and alliance alert. I know it's to set up the romance, but for someone who was playing a pretty committed Theronmancer, it was like "whoa, bro." The Smuggler is one of the ... most well-traveled characters in vanilla SWTOR, male or female, so they would know how to handle unwanted advances. Their partner might not handle it so well. 
> 
> This is being posted as a "thank you!" to the readers -- I appreciate y'all.

A secret of the casino world: Smuggler Eva Corolastor had absolutely zero ability to put on her pazaak face prior to caf. Most gamblers are this way – it’s why the tables are filled at night and in the wee hours, not during the sunshine-filled morrow. 

This was typically why Eva put off reading her Holonet messages in depth. Long before the Eternal Alliance, she had developed a standard operating procedure. Upon waking, she would skim the titles of her Holonet messages. She tried to give herself a forewarning as to anything bizarre. Before opening anything, she would have a cup of caf. Then the business of the day would take over. Typically, she would split a pot of caf with her shipmates in the galley, trying to wake up or trying to stave off the death of brain cells from all the poor decisions from the night before. As the day progressed, the caf was tapered off to tea so she wasn’t a twitchy, on-edge disaster by the time she went to work at the tables. 

After she lost the crew, the routine didn’t change. She still made the caf in the morning, but for a few months, she only shared it with one particular secret agent who kept failing at sneaking out of her quarters before daylight came. He’d said very early on that he wasn’t used to doing this – waking up together, having breakfast, parting ways just for the day, coming back together for a meal, discussing what to do next…. “the whole relationship thing,” as he referred to it. He might even forget to talk to her for a few days, he said.

Theron Shan was quickly domesticated, which did not surprise Eva. His quarters on base, much like his former apartment in Coruscant (which she had seen twice, in brief, from the balcony), looked like a furniture showroom. Nobody actually lived there or spent enough time there for it to be messy or have a personality. She was unsure if the apartment or the quarters had even been decorated by him; he may have requested that both be “furnished.” This meant someone else’s wife or mother had picked the milquetoast paintings and the inoffensive furnishings in the residence so that it gave the illusion of someone having a life there. It was not a home. It was “a place that was not an office” for Theron.

Ultimately, Theron’s life outside of his job was stark, partly from being a spy, partly from his heritage: a detached Jedi mother and an anonymous career-driven father. He had no childhood keepsakes, and he had no hobbies beyond those connected to his profession.

Then came the smuggler. Theron never quite knew what hit him, but he knew he felt wanted and not in the “apprehend on sight” type of way. He still didn’t possess a lot of things beyond his clothes, but he had her. Eva had him. It was mutual, and that was more than Theron had ever had. 

This all explains why it was a terrible, horrible, very bad idea for Eva to open her Holonet messages before caf. She could not hide her response to them. 

It had been a couple of weeks since the Eternal Empire had become the Eternal Alliance. Eva’s Holonet inbox had been flooded by well-wishers, gifts, and good news all around. She’d even gotten some updated intel on Corso, Risha, and Akaavi. Once Lana finalized some details that ensured the Alliance Commander’s safety, Eva would go on their trail with Bowdaar and Guss in tow.

Until then, Eva and Theron were left to their blissful idyll. Lovers only improved with practice, according to Theron, and Eva did think he was right. 

One particular morning, Eva woke to Theron spooning her. He muttered something affectionate but incoherent as she turned her head to press a kiss to his unshaven jaw, settling herself back into his warm, firm body. His arms crossed over her bare waist. She let herself doze a bit longer, but ultimately, she had to get up. Aftereffects of the bad carbonite freeze made her restless at times. She carefully untangled herself from Theron, promising him caf in exchange for her liberty.

He grumbled and then rolled over. She threw on a dressing gown – a red silk one he had insisted on buying her -- and padded into the galley. She could hear her Holonet inbox singing its song of woe: she needed to delete things again, or else it would do it for her. Eva started the caf and grabbed her portable message reader. She couldn’t write a response, but at least she could clear space. She stood in the galley, sleepily previewing her messages while she waited for the caf to brew. The clicking of the message device was all that was audible beyond the percolator.

Hers. Hers. Hers. Spam messages. Delete. Delete. Delete. Who the hell is this? Delete. Lana. Flag that. Who the hell is this? What the hell was that about? Oh, it was meant for Vette. Flag, will forward later. 

Hers. Hers. Hers. Hers but technically Theron’s, but Aygo was smart enough to know she was more likely to read her messages first. When Theron was out of office, he really meant it these days. Good. 

Hers. Hers. Theron’s. Hers. Theron’s. Bowdaar’s monthly from the cantina, flagged for when he got up and came over. 

Bowie and Guss had not insisted upon moving back into the ship. They wanted their captain to be happy, and Bowdaar had quickly figured out ‘happy’ meant ‘with Spike.’ He’d passed the message on to Guss, who was not at all interested in seeing Theron in a compromised state. 

It would have been a different story if the Captain had hooked up with the statuesque blonde, according to Guss. Bowie had innocently shrugged at that insinuation. 

She loved those misfits and couldn’t wait for the other three to come back. 

Hers. Hers. Hers. Bowdaar’s. Guss’s. Guss’s. Defintely Guss’s. Hers. Hers.

Hers – didn’t expect that sender. Curiosity was her downfall.

Silence.

“What the flying fuck.”

Silence.

Eva shook her head. “No. Just no.” She set the Holonet transceiver on the galley counter, staring at it as if it had nineteen heads and sounded like Valkorion.

“What’s wrong?” came a sleepy but concerned voice. Eva turned to see Theron in the galley doorway, bare-chested but wearing a pair of sleep pants – something she had insisted on buying him. 

She shook her head. “Nothing. Weird mail.”

Theron yawned, but Eva could tell he wasn’t convinced. He was watching her glower at the transceiver as it were possessed by demons. As the caf finished percolating, Eva crouched down to liquor cabinet. She grabbed some Savareen brandy. The caf machine was still shutting down as Eva pulled the carafe off and poured herself two thirds of a cup of caf and then topped it off with the brandy.

“Want some caf with your liquor? What the hell was in that message?” Theron reached for the transceiver, but even with the time needed to set down the brandy, Eva beat him to it. 

“Nothing. You know how me being famous has led to some bizarre solicitations. This is just another one of them.” She held it behind her back, stepping away from Theron. “I’ll delete it.”

Theron cast an eye at the state of the galley countertop and put his hands on his hips. “Most of the strange messages don’t cause you to start drinking this early in the day. Give it up.” He made a “bring it” gesture with one of his hands. 

Eva shook her head and tried to change the subject. “Let’s go back to bed.”

Even as her free hand’s fingers reached out toward his waistband, Theron was single-minded in his pursuit, reaching around her to grab the device. He pulled her toward him in a rough, one-armed hug, his mouth capturing hers. At the same time, his other hand gently began to work her grip on the transceiver loose. She let out a small growl of frustration. “Beastly thing, you are,” she managed to say around his mouth.

“You don’t normally complain.” Theron didn’t force his hand, and he didn’t attempt to kiss her again right away. “I don’t want to pry, but – ” 

Eva saw Theron wrestling with his emotions and how to express them, a regular event that she encouraged. They were far from those early days on Yavin, where he was wound so tightly that the eventual blast was incendiary to anyone nearby. His impulse to conceal was still strong, though. “When I walked in, the way you looked -- it reminded me of those final bad days.” Theron looked down at her, worry all over his face now. 

Eva felt some of her resolve ebb away. She knew what he referred to. “It’s nothing that serious. It just startled me. I can file it under ‘n’ for ‘nope.’” 

“Which means I can throw out that abomination on the counter?” Theron carefully countered.

Eva hesitated, and that was the second she knew he had her. “No, I still want it.” She deserved _some_ compensation for that nasty shock.

“Then I still want this.” She felt Theron gently wiggle his fingers around the transceiver.

“I can give you anything else you want.” She moved her free hand convincingly – she hoped.

“That works most of the time. But I’m –” Theron’s breath stuttered. “— not letting anything get to you now that you’re free.” 

“We’re free,” she corrected him. That was the more accurate statement. Eva knew what Theron had given up by tying himself to her, a lover that could either die or be driven mad. He had no future, until two weeks ago. His meditation patterns (or lack thereof) reflected that. 

“All the more reason for me to insist.” Despite the forceful words, Eva felt Theron relax around her and then withdraw. He stood before her, barefoot in her galley, waiting.

He wasn’t going to take it. It had to be freely given. But it wasn’t out of bounds for him to convince her with just a smidge of emotional blackmail. 

Plus his puppy dog eyes were lethal weapons, as far as her will went. Eva weighed the holo transceiver in her hand. She gave firm consideration to the alcoholic coffee she’d made for herself. 

In one smooth motion, Eva picked up and took a swig of the coffee while extending the transceiver to Theron. “Just remember, it’s cringeworthy.”

Now he hesitated. Theron was well-aware that Eva always delivered, often in the most brutal or unexpected way possible. Eva continued to drink her heavily dosed coffee as she waited for him to take it. 

Theron finally took his prize. 

Eva leaned back against the cupboards of the galley, bare legs crossed at the ankles. Her mind read and re-read the Holonet message that had jarred her that morning. 

_Valkorion is gone. Finally._

_As hard as I try, I will never forget my father’s cruelty. Those empty, dismissive eyes. His attempt to break me and my siblings, eroding kindness until there was nothing left but hatred and resentment. Only my brother Thexan found a way to cope…until my rage destroyed him._

_When you saved me on Voss, I was struck by how much you reminded me of Thexan. You both have a gift for inspiring loyalty. It is a shame you two never met._

_Now Thexan, Valkorion, and Vaylin are all gone, but I am no longer alone. I have my mother. I have the Eternal Alliance…._

_And I have you._

A follow-up message, sent not long after the first:

_Commander,_

_There is something I would like to talk with you about, in private. Could you please meet me near the ship docking port?_

_\--Arcann_

Silence.

Then.

Eva saw Theron’s jaw lock. The lips twisted back in a silent snarl. She could see the tendons in his arms and hands tighten.

Theron’s eyes were a golden olive, typically, shifting between colors depending upon the lighting, the clothing, and his mood. 

This morning, Theron’s eyes became a radiant green. Eva carelessly thought for a second that Theron made a pretty sexy green-eyed monster. 

Then she remembered the last word of that sentence wasn’t a good thing, especially paired with what came out of his mouth. “I’ll kill him.”

Before she could stop him, Theron wheeled around and stomped back toward her quarters. Eva paused for a moment to absorb the situation in its awful entirety.

It was going to be one of _those_ days. 

Eva shot-gunned the rest of her caf, wincing as her stomach woke up and screamed at her cruelty. Then she made herself a second mug, not as deadly as the first. Then she chased after Theron.

By this point, the sleep clothes were off, the briefs were on, and he was pulling on his trousers, his belt still in its loops from last night. Attached to said belt were his holstered blaster pistols. “Theron --"

“I was wrong. You should have shot that shuttle out of the damn sky.” He roughly pulled up his zipper and buttoned the fly shut. He was grappling with his belt – he was so angry he was fumbling the closure.

“Theron—”

“How dare he!” he exploded in anger. “How dare he –” Words failed Theron as he fought to tame his rage long enough to get his pants on properly, stalk his way across the docks, and blast the former tyrant into at least 30,000 separate pieces. “Comparing you to his brother, the only kind one, wishing you two met, sharing a gift, having lost everything but _you._ ” Theron’s handsome face contorted again in anger. “He doesn’t have you. He never had you.”

Eva waited, taking a long, long sip of her spiked caf. 

“He threw you into carbonite for five years. You lost everything.” Theron’s green eyes roared as his voice grew harsh, quieter, deadlier. “And now he thinks you and he can have a private chat? That leads to what?” As Theron swallowed down his anger, Eva saw his body shudder. He was never more dangerous. “You should have gone with your gut. You should have shot that shuttle down – I was wrong to argue that an innocent was on-board – sometimes people die – collateral damage happens.” A jagged breath. “We should have rejected him on that rooftop.” 

“But that was my call,” Eva’s voice cut through, cool and even. As hoped, the alcohol had settled her jangled nerves. “And he is part of the Alliance. And you’re not going to kill him.”

Theron’s eyes grew larger and sparks flew from them. “I won’t let him touch you.”

“And I’m not going to let him touch me. I’m not his,” she replied, razor sharp. She stepped fully inside her quarters and locked the door behind her. She sat on her desk, dressing gown arranged so that nothing distracting appeared when she crossed her legs. “You are jealous.”

“WHAT?” Theron’s voice bounced around the room three or four times. Eva heard birds outside flap a hasty retreat away from the _Thief._ “Do you think this is something _petty_?” Theron fumed. “How can he even think --?”

“He isn’t. At least, I don’t think he is,” she quickly asserted. “But I think you’re angry that he is ignoring you in this equation. Not that he has a chance.”

Theron shook his head. “No, he has no right to ask you to meet like this. He took five years from you, then another two in dealing with him and his sister. You lost everything.”

“ _You_ lost everything for five years,” Eva intoned quietly from her perch on her desk. “Me. Your mother. T3, the Maker rest his tiny silicon soul. The Republic. SIS. Your father. The future.” Eva shrugged. “You were awake through this seven-year nightmare. I was out for five of them.” 

“Don’t say I had the tougher road.” Theron was beside her within two strides, the still-not-properly-attached belt rattling. “The nightmares. How both of them tortured you. How much you hate to be cold. Your pain. The crew.” Theron cupped her jaw in his hand with shocking tenderness, given the context of the conversation. His brevity reflected both his fury and their mutual desire not to discuss these things anymore. “And you’ve never given me a moment of doubt. I’m _not_ jealous.”

“Is ‘possessive’ a better word?”

“Yes. No,” Theron returned sharply, frowning, dropping his hand. “I don’t want to keep you all to myself – no, I do,” he corrected himself. “But I don’t want you to give up everyone else so that I monopolize you.” Theron jaw tightened again. “I don’t want him thinking he can just take you whenever. Wherever. You are not his plaything or a trophy in carbonite, at his amusement.”

Eva adjusted the collar of her robe as she spoke, carefully, as if treading across a mine field. “I have two lines of questioning. You’re my intel guy. Help me out.” He gave her a brusque nod. “Outside of the family tree of awful, who did Arcann associate with?”

“Unknown. Few social visitors to his compounds,” the answer came, efficiently.

“I don’t know either. You monitor his mail. Anything?” She looked up at him, waiting.

“No, nothing.” Theron squared himself to her, hands on hips, unlatched belt tugging at his waistband. Eva could see tremors running through his muscles – he was still livid.

“So he’s lived in a palace all of his life, with only his parents kind of there, his sister until she got hauled off to Nathema, and his brother.” Eva extended her hands, palms up, as if holding something. “That’s his whole world. Other than the guards and whatever elite societies he circulated in – none of which have contacted him since his fall, even though his address is obvious now that Vaylin is dead.”

Theron continued to look at her, impatiently waiting for something. He was still ready to go off and kill Arcann. 

“Second line of questioning. Do you remember your first crush?” she asked Theron softly.

Theron looked at her as if she were crazy for a moment. “That’s a shift in topic. Not relevant,” he gruffly stated.

Eva turned one of her hands up, fingers upright to stop Theron from objecting too vigorously. “No, relevant. Follow me here. Who was she?”

Theron looked away from her, trying to find an answer in the ceiling or in the wall. “I was never supposed to have a crush. I was a Jedi youngling.”

Eva only allowed herself a slight grin, in part because she knew her eyes had a life of their own at this point. “Tell me about her.”

Theron shook his head and scoffed, “I don’t remember. It was too long ago.”

“Bull. Everyone remembers, even the most virginal monk.”

Theron rolled his eyes. “I don’t remember the name. I remember how she looked. What she did. How she did it. How I felt watching her do things I so wanted to do…” his voice trailed off. “She kicked my ass.”

Eva’s uncontrollable giggle escaped from her. She didn’t expect that. “What?” 

Theron allowed himself a small, sad smile. “It was one of the first signs that I wasn’t going to make it as a Jedi. I was simply no match for her in a playful sparring match. She was really kind about it – not snotty, not pitying me. Just didn’t understand why she couldn’t help me get better.”

Eva closed her eyes, let herself breathe for a few moments, and then asked Theron, “So you had a crush on a girl you could not have and should not have, and she shocked you. You, being the cocky young thing I know you were, never conceived that a _girl_ could best you.”

Theron opened his mouth and then shut it. “Yes,” he supplied.

“This must have been a big deal, socially, because you didn’t hang out with other younglings that often, if I recall.” 

“Yes,” Theron answered softly. “Master Zho and I did a lot of wandering when I was a kid. The universe was huge, but my world was small, in terms of the people I knew, trusted.” He arched a brow. “Still is,” he murmured in a bout of sudden honesty. “The social network is far larger, but in terms of how many people I’d trust in a room…”

Eva let that hang in the air for a minute. “Now imagine you never had that crush or any of that social contact until you were in your 20s. Spoon on oppressive family issues and shake vigorously with disfigurement. Who’s the first female that kicks your ass, looks great doing it, and doesn’t try to kill you? And isn’t a blood relative?”

The credit finally dropped. “Stars.” Theron dropped his anger for a moment. But only for a moment. “Still, he knows you’re taken.” Theron gave her an expectant look, which was backed by his fury at Arcann.

Eva didn’t want to touch that, but she went into the breach anyway. “He…may not pick up on the subtleties of a functional relationship. Remember, he’s got his parents to compare it to. That’s it.” 

Theron shuddered. “No, don’t want to remember. Or imagine. Yeck.” He paused. “Surely, he’s seen us…be affectionate?”

Eva shot him a look. “We operate under the same rules we had at Yavin. We keep it business while we we’re in the war room with others and over the open comms.”

“On the ship before the Throne?”

“They came in after we kissed.”

“Surely Senya --?”

“Would you tell _your mom_ about a girl you like?”

Theron didn’t answer that – he simply made a face. 

Eva drained the last of her caf from her mug then stood up to face Theron, leaving the mug on her desk. “I think that’s all this is. It wasn’t something I wanted to see in my inbox first thing. Or at all. But I don’t think it’s as sinister or disrespectful as you think it is. It’s cringeworthy, as I said before.” Theron didn’t want to agree with her, still smoldering. 

Carefully, Eva moved her hands, keeping them where Theron could see them. “So how about, we take off the guns,” she proposed, as she set to work removing the holsters from his belt, “you let me get dressed, and I’ll deal with Arcann. This morning. Issue resolved.” Eva tried to keep her tone even, which was a whole hell of a lot easier after two large shots of brandy.

Theron stayed silent. Eva successfully detached one blaster from his belt and went to work on the other. 50% less likely chance of Theron murdering someone today. “Is our relationship public knowledge?” he asked.

“That’s a Lana question – I don’t know what crawls in and out of here in terms of P.R., most of the time. I just do what I do.” Such as disarming angry spy boyfriend. “All my friends, advisors, and associates know we are together, if that helps.”

“Somewhat.” Eva’s hands paused on a strap as she detected Theron’s tone. Then she sped up her work. 

She didn’t like when he sounded like that. It typically preceded something either chaotically brilliant or mind-numbingly idiotic that somehow worked as he wanted it to anyway. It was the same tone he took when he told the story about the one time he ran through an Imperial fortress in his underwear and boots, armed with just a blaster. 

As Eva successfully detached Theron’s second blaster from his belt and put it beside its twin on her desk, he proclaimed, “I have a better idea.”

Eva had one assessment: “Uh oh.”

Theron leered at her, those jealous green eyes still raging away. “How about, instead of you getting dressed and meeting Arcann to explain our status, we show him? And anyone else not picking up on it?”

Eva drew her lips into a thin line. Bigger uh oh.

“Let’s have sex on top of the ship. In full view of the gods and everyone.”

Well, that would certainly make the relationship public. Wait. Remember, mind-numbingly idiotic. “Theron –”

Theron grabbed her by the hands. “Come on, we almost did it once.” He unlocked the door to her quarters.

“On Yavin. Big difference between Yavin and here.” Eva broke his grasp easily and planted herself firmly on her bedroom floor. 

“Yavin: leafy green forests, mountains, nice waterfalls, sparsely populated, random dead Sith lords roaming around, Satele lurking in the trees – sounds just like Odessen.” Theron threw out his arms in frustration.

“I’m not yours to display on top of a starship either,” she said, referring back to his complaints about Arcann.

Theron took that criticism to heart. “I’m sorry.” He ran a hand back through his hair. “How about a public message announcement across base?”

Eva blinked and stared at him. “What the hell? I can just tell him and finish this.” She was missing something. She didn’t know what. 

Theron was at a loss for words for a moment. Then he folded his hands behind his neck and looked at the ceiling. “After you arrived on Odessen, when we started coming in together from the same direction, Lana called us ‘a security risk.’”

“That pissed me off. I remember.” Eva remembered several other heated conversations with Lana over her relationship with Theron, beginning on Rishi. 

Theron let his arms drop and then crossed them. “Lana was right. Blunt. But right. Your attachments are a liability.” Theron continued, face unreadable. “But we’ve worked so damn well together, and we’ve been following the same rules since Yavin; Lana even said they were good practice and just to keep it up. On the clock, we’re all business – close associates, but still business. Unless I’m about to send you to your uncertain death, of course.” He visibly bristled at that aspect of their relationship. “Off the clock – well, here we are, arguing in your bedroom. I’m half naked, and you’re not wearing any underwear.” 

“Either we’re in public or we’re not, and when we’re not – we strip off everything. Literally and figuratively. Bit bipolar.” Eva mindfully readjusted her dressing gown. What he said was true, and they needed to get through this conversation without any fun extracurriculars. 

Theron nodded. “It’s how we’ve always been.” His face suddenly became readable, but it didn’t make sense to Eva. 

He was sad.

She didn’t understand. Eva couldn’t bear to see him like this, though. Ever so carefully, Eva reached up at arms’ length to trace the skin around his implants, an ancient sign of affection from their earliest days. It always surprised him, disarmed him, made his heart sing a little -- and it did so this time. Theron’s face relaxed and his arms uncrossed. Eva silently took the final two steps to him and hugged him, her head to his chest. Both of them let the tension drop out of their bodies, Theron wrapping his arms around her. It wasn’t even half nine, according to the chrono. Kriff. 

It was one of _those_ days.

Eva pressed her cheek into his warm chest, right over his heart. She wanted to ask, but she didn’t even know _what_ to ask. How did two brief pieces of correspondence from a misguided ally upend the morning? She still needed to schedule the meeting and deal with it. 

Eva hated being the Alliance Commander. She wished Theron had let her run away the night of the celebration. She wished he would come away with her _just once_. She wanted her life back. 

Being a smuggler was so much less complicated. Fly ship, shoot fast, think quick, escape, celebrate, pay homage to Death as needed to keep smuggling. Repeat until either dead or too old, which was a myth. Nobody ever died old as a smuggler. 

Theron presented a complication to that formula. Even as she wanted to run, even as she had no future…. Eva was daring to want to grow old with him, which would defy the basic tenets of the smuggler existence. It would defy the common wisdom pertaining to spies as well. And now here the two of them were, betting against the house for both lifespans. They’d already beat the Eternal Empire, so why not press their hand?

She held him tighter. “I love you.”

“I know.” 

Time passed. Eva felt a ripple go through Theron’s body, almost like a soft reset on the jukebox after it had played the same song too many times in a row. It finally moved on to the next track. “Captain, I have an analysis of recent intel we acquired from your inbox and the response to it by Secret Agent Spy Extraordinaire Theron Shan.” His voice was lighter.

Eva braced herself and raised her head to see her spy. “Lay it out for me.” 

He’d earned the designation “Secret Agent Spy Extraordinaire” during a conversation with Lana, after he had admittedly taken liberties with a mission brief. Eva and Lana had sworn to each other that they would not kill him without the other present. They’d even made a blood pact with papercuts. It was about 3 am, nobody had slept the previous night either, and Theron was in the room the entire time. It was ridiculous, but it was a permanent in-joke; he now signed his Holonet messages with SASE appended to his name. Nobody had ever asked what it stood for.

Eva noticed that Theron’s eyes had finally resumed their normal color and were no longer monstrous. “Your Secret Agent Spy Extraordinaire was ready to eliminate the target, the sender of the intel, due to prior association. His previous activities contravened your stated objectives and threatened your life. It was frankly outrageous to the Secret Agent Spy Extraordinaire that the target could view you in that way. This was only worsened by the target’s seeming oblivion in thinking he had any reasonable chance of success.”

Theron rubbed her back with one hand. “The Secret Agent Spy Extraordinaire also felt threatened that the target would declare his love in a public place – or as public as it gets here on base. This reflected the unfortunate truth that the out-of-office association between you, Captain, and the Secret Agent Spy Extraordinaire remains an unofficially clandestine operation.” Theron sighed. “His relationship with you is yet another relationship that is in the shadows. Unlike his affiliation with Grandmaster Shan and Commander Malcom, it’s never been classified, a state secret, or a shame. But it’s not in the clear either.” 

Eva felt awful for him as he spoke. Theron could never walk completely in daylight with his parents. To this point, the relationship between Agent Theron Shan and Smuggler Captain Eva Corolastor – the Voidhound, the Outlander, the Alliance Commander, the Lady of Emancipation – was the same. There were seen together but never acknowledged as _being_ _together_. 

He shifted his weight, and he became introspective. “That stupid message. I realized.” He took a breath. “We all know who he is, who his parents were, his connections to the universe. I realized I’m the opposite. I’m nobody’s child. That won’t change. I don’t want to be this way forever.” Theron gazed down at her. “I want to have some indication I have a ‘next of kin.’”

He wanted a recognized attachment. Oh, how had five years bent his knees.

“Secret Agent Spy Extraordinaire,” she addressed him. A mild smile came through. “Given that the largest threats in the galaxy are behind us, we can probably exist together outside of my quarters, regardless of our mutual worrying Sith friend. So let’s make you somebody’s lover. Boyfriend. Partner.” She ran a thumb over his lips.

“Are you ‘somebody’?” he gently teased.

“I’m not just anybody, or so I’m told.” Even as he readjusted his grip on her, Eva continued, “Before we lose ourselves in this, the meeting with him.” Eva wanted to put this to bed, even if she wasn’t going to see hers for the rest of the day. “I’ll set it for three hours from now. Not far from here, as he requested.”

“I’ll be there.”

“No, you won’t. I can deal with this myself without you skulking around a corner or looming over the poor guy. You can watch from the ship.”

“How about on top of the ship with a sniper rifle?”

“Theron.”

“Fine. Can I listen in?”

Eva nodded, impatient. “Fine, Secret Agent Spy Extraordinaire. I’ll consider it part of your job of keeping me safe.” 

Theron seemed satisfied by this compromise. “Aye, Captain,” he said before bowing his head to kiss her.

Eventually, she spoke again. “I need to hit the fresher and my closet. I can’t go to a meeting with him while smelling like you and wearing your cast-off clothes. Especially if I’m letting him down easy.”

“Why not?”

“Theron.”

**

Lana emerged from her meeting with Aygo. Although the balance of power in the galaxy had shifted and changed during the course of the last few weeks, long-term problems inherent to the Republic and Sith Empire did not. Getting back to “old business” was somewhat a comfort in these briefings.

Lana could see the docks as she walked and immediately noticed that a figure in white stood not far away from _Virtue’s Thief._ She stopped in her tracks. What was this? It was a cool and blustery day – grey all around, rain spitting every so often. Nobody would willingly be out there, typically. The figure was nervous, pacing. He possessed a package of some sort. As the figure turned to make another circuit of the docking platform, Lana realized it was Arcann.

The Alliance Commander eventually strolled down the gangplank of the _Thief_. She shook his hand as the conversation began. Lana tilted her head at the Commander’s body language. A surfeit of caution. She could not help but compare it to how Eva regarded her after the incident on Rishi – a brief period of utter distrust, of not wanting to let her into the circle, until the resolution on Yavin.

Hopefully, this would be resolved without Arcann being shot in the face.

There wasn’t anger behind her interactions, unlike that time. Just profound caution.

Eva accepted the present with some grace, and it was in the exchange that Lana’s attention was caught by Arcann’s body language. “Oh dear.” She’d seen that adult awkwardness – not as painful as the teenage variety, but still unsettling, given all their histories. And there was the cause for caution: Eva didn’t want to grind him to dust nor give any indication there was a slightest chance. 

The reason for that complete lack of chance was likely listening in on the conversation, a combination of love, protectiveness, duty, and a few other complicated emotions thrown in. 

Eventually, the Commander clapped Arcann on the shoulder a few times and seemed to send him off – a hale and hearty welcome to the Alliance, formally. She turned, with the present, and headed back up into the _Thief_ , not looking back once. 

Arcann looked back twice before he disappeared from Lana’s view. 

A few minutes later, two people emerged from the _Thief_. Theron, unsurprisingly for Lana, had been in the ship the entire time. Fortunately for security, to this point, he’d never been particularly dramatic in making his entry onto base. For many, Theron just appeared, as if he lived in the war room and folded himself into a nearby closet at night. He had no life beyond his work. His work was his life.

Lana was one of the few who knew _she_ was his work. And his work was his life. 

If someone saw Theron come out of the _Thief_ , it was not assumed that he had spent the night there. Rather, the operating theory was that he had briefed the Commander over a bracing mug of caf early in the morning. That way, as a model of efficiency, she would be able to have a second cup with Aygo before the troops showed up. The she meandered over to Sana Rae for a more floral drink at midday. At 1600 hours, she kept tea in Oggurrob’s lab. 

First it was just her and the scientist. Then Bowdaar came back and silently resumed his participation in tea time from five years earlier. Lokin soon caught wind that the smuggler and the Hutt each had a stash of tea, and he immediately changed his rotation between military and science quarters. Talos Drellik was not one to pass up the opportunity. Even Lana herself started taking tea with the cadre by the end of the war. She quite liked that.

Eva finished the workday with a drink or a spiked caf with Hylo. The Alliance Commander met with all her advisors in a timely fashion – it simply wouldn’t work if her operations manager wasted time in the morning. Sometimes Theron and Eva worked over lunch as well – taken in the _Thief_ or in the cantina. It was business. 

Lana felt a small jolt of shock as the two of them thoroughly undid that polite illusion. The smuggler and the spy walked closer together than they did typically. Their speech was animated, less regimented or business-like. Then, the rules of Yavin were completely shattered:

When a piece of Eva’s hair escaped its tie, Theron reached with a finger to gently guide it behind her ear, so that it didn’t bother her. 

It was a single, tiny gesture that spoke volumes.

Lana supposed that “old business” would never be old, truly, due to some little taste of chaos.

**Author's Note:**

> sullustangin.tumblr.com


End file.
